


Uncomfortably Numb

by tonbosan



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Community: badbadbathhouse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-28
Updated: 2011-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonbosan/pseuds/tonbosan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dojima visits Adachi in the hospital after December's events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncomfortably Numb

Eyes. Sprouting all over me, covering my naked body like boils. My skin coal black as if I’ve been put through an incinerator. The pupil on one of the eyes–the one smack in the middle of my right bicep–dilates. It’s staring at me, burning a hole into my forehead.

Growing.

My vision is eclipsed by an ever-expanding darkness. The eye swallows me, and I stop breathing.

-

Coughing. Loud and deep and wet. Somebody sounds like they’re hacking up a lung.

“Adachi, can you hear me? Adachi!”

Air hits the back of my throat and rushes down into my chest. I feel like I’m on fire, gasping over and over as if I’m trying to blow myself out.

“I said get the doctor in here! He’s choking, goddammit!”

The eyes are back and now they can move. One by one they slime their way up across my neck and over my chin, plunging into my suffocating mouth like a horde of lemmings.

I want to claw them off before any more can force themselves inside. I lift my arms but something digs into my wrists. I lift my chest and buck my head, trying to shake them off.

But they keep coming, they just keep coming.

And by some miracle I finally find my voice before its snuffed out.

“Get these fucking eyes off of me! They’re everywhere! Get the fucking things off-”

A gloved hand at my stomach, pushing me flat on my back. A sharp pain where my left shoulder meets my neck. Something spills inside of me, then I can’t feel a thing.

-

The sleep is dreamless, and I’m thankful.

-

I awaken sometime at night. The window in front of my bed has been left open and a cold breeze rustles. The air smells like it just rained. The moon doesn’t seem to be around, so it’s too dark to see anything, but I feel like I’m being watched.

And I am.

“You were out for awhile.”

The voice comes from behind me. He must be in the chair by the door.

“H-how could you tell I was awake?” Every word seems to scrape skin from my throat. I swallow dryly.

“Your breathing changed.”

I cough involuntarily, sounding like a grenade went off inside my chest.

“Here.” A plastic cup is pressed against my lips. I part them and water pours in. It feels wonderful.

“Thanks.”

The cup is gone and there’s a hand against my forehead for a second.

“You’re fever’s down. That’s good. They said the pain was making you delirious.”

“Oh.” Painkillers. So that’s why I can barely feel anything below my neck.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Like he needs my permission. Now that he knows what I am, he goes polite on me? Weird.

“Shoot.”

“You were screaming something about eyes on you.”

That’s not a question.

“Yeah, I was having a nightmare. It was like I had a case of hives, only they were eyes.”

Eyes sliding all over me like jellyfish, force-feeding themselves to me.

“Did you, uh, see these eyes before? You know, when you….”

What, he can’t even say it? Old fool still in denial, or embarrassed, or what?

“No, I’m not schizophrenic, Dojima-san.” I laugh. It doesn’t hurt that much. “I’m just….”

A criminal. But a unique one.

“I was just…I was angry. And bored. And, fuck, I had a thing for her, okay? I’d been jerking off to her news program for a couple years now, and she just happened to show up in the same town I’d gotten kicked over to. I mean, what are the odds? Nobody comes to fucking Inaba, right? So I thought, maybe this is my chance, t-to meet that one person, you know? But she, she turned out to be just like all the others, a fucking gold-digger. And then she struggled-”

when I tried to put my fingers inside of her

“-so I-I pinned her against the TV, and-”

“Okay, enough, Adachi. I get it.”

No he doesn’t. His precious wife loved him, he loved her. They…made love and shit. So what if she’s dead? At least he has the fucking memories to keep him company.

“We’ll take down your confession tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great, I can’t wait.”

Please, no more eyes growing out of my body as it sleeps. Next time I might not wake up.

“Goodnight, Adachi. Try and get some rest. I want you lucid tomorrow.”

The creak of the door opening, light from the hospital corridor filters into the room. Wish I could see his face, but his back is to me. At least he’s back to wearing his work clothes instead of that ugly green gown. Oh god, that’s probably what they’ve stuffed me in. Shit.

The door closes and I’m in darkness. I wish he’d have stayed longer. I’d rather have a conversation than just lie here trying not to fall asleep. If I have to see those fucking black eyes popping out of my charred skin like blisters, I’ll-

Light suddenly in my eyes, I squint against it. Door wide open. He steps into the room, closes it behind him, quietly, and it’s black again.

“One more thing.”

Sure, just don’t leave.

“I’m here all night. But let me guess, you want to know about the Konishi girl.”

He says nothing, and if he nods I can’t see it. Dojima never was much of a talker.

“I saw her with Namatame. Now that Mayumi was out of the picture she was making a move on him. Why do cheating government officials like Namatame get all the attention from women like Mayumi and the Konishi girl? I’m younger than he is, and I would never…disrespect my wife like that. Rich, cultured, good family name, I’m sick of those kinds of people getting all the breaks. I-I was jealous, okay? I did it because she went after a man like him and not a, not a-a…”

“Guy like you.”

“Yeah…a no-name small town detective like me.”

I hear him sigh. He’s probably rubbing the back of his head right now, staring at the floor.

“Is that it, then?” Because I really, really don’t want it to be.

“Yeah. Well, goodnight again.”

The door edges open, and this time I can see his face. He’s looking back at me, expression unnaturally calm. Surprising.

I should tell him to close the window. The room is freezing. That would keep him here a few seconds longer anyway. …Oh, I know.

“Dojima-san? Could you, uh, shut the window? I’m kinda cold. And then, um, could you turn the TV on? I don’t feel ready to fall asleep just yet.”

“I told you I want you lucid tomorrow.” He grumbles but does what I say. I smile.

The television crackles on. A black and white image of a man pointing a gun at the camera. Kimura Isao. Awesome!

“I love this movie! This is-”

“Stray Dog.”

Impressive. I thought he only watched the news.

“I like it too.”

Do you see yourself in Detective Sato? Is that why?

“Watch with me?”

I pat the side of the mattress, handcuffs clinking against the metal frame. Did you see me in Detective Murakami? Do you still? Or have I become Yusa to you now?

“Alright.”

Yes!

“But just a for few minutes.”

We’ll see.

\---

“Bad luck can make a man or destroy a man,” Sato says to Murakami as Dojima pulls out a cigarette.

“Dojima-san, um, this is a hospital.”

“That’s why I opened the window.” He frowns and returns the cigarette to its carton.

The fingers of his left hand drum silently on the mattress. I can tell he’s moments away from getting up and leaving. I cover his hand with my own.

His gaze shifts from the screen to me. “Why did you send a stretcher for me?”

“Figured you’d need one.” A pause. “You’re my partner.”

“Not for much longer.”

“No.”

He splays his free hand on the sheet above my chest. In this light it could pass for a tarantula.

“Adachi, are you afraid to sleep?”

Yes. “No.”

“You’re not,” he slides his hand down to my navel, “afraid of disembodied eyes crawling all over you, suffocating you while you dream?”

Hell yes. “No.”

His hand is between my legs now. The sheet is thin and starchy. He moves it against me.

“What you’re doing, I can’t feel it. Painkillers, remember?”

“You sure about that?” He moves his hand to my thigh, and I see my dick sticking up like a fucking exclamation point.

When I don’t reply, he fists it and pumps up and down. I really wish I could feel this, not just see it. I might as well be watching my own handjob on goddamn television.

Something in me must feel it, though, because my hips begin to jerk upwards in time with his movements and my hand tightens around his.

“You have the keys, right? Uncuff me.”

“You don’t need your hands for this.” He twists around so he’s facing me and pushes himself up onto the bed. “And neither do I.”

He’s got my left thigh between his legs, hand still moving on my cloth-covered cock, my hand still gripping his. I can feel the heat in his pants, bleeding through them, soaking through the sheet and onto my skin. I can feel the warmth of his palm on me, and the coarse grooves of his knuckles underneath my own hand. But I’m still unable to feel what I’m supposed to be feeling. And yet my body reacts as if I can, bucking up harder, faster. I begin to pant. So does he.

“Uncuff me, dammit!” I hiss. “Just one arm.”

“Why?” he gasps, thrusting roughly against my hipbone.

“Want to put it around you.”

He stills, and the hand around my cock is gone. There is a jangle of keys. His fingers tremble as he inserts the metal into the lock of the cuff on my right arm-the one that’s just lying there.

Click. And I’m free. Half of me, anyway. I reach up, cup the back of his head and lift my own.

“Thank you,” I breathe before he shoves his tongue into my mouth. I freeze for an instant as if a mess of eyeballs is slipping past my lips. Then his hand scrabbles at my neck, yanking the sheet down and gripping me, flesh against flesh. Then I can move again.

And I finally, finally feel it. Can't help from moaning softly at his touch.

I stroke the back of his neck, wet with sweat, and run my tongue against his. I grip his shoulder, then slide my palm across his bicep, squeezing it.

He likes that, shows it by groaning into my mouth, thrusting violently against my bare thigh and clutching the base of my cock like a vise. I whine back at him, but he only tightens his grip.

After an achingly long moment he lets go and grabs my wrist from his arm, crushing it against the mattress. He breaks the kiss and frees his other hand from underneath my chained one. Then he reaches back and slaps me hard across the mouth.

I cry out, more from shock than pain, and taste blood on my tongue.

“That’s for getting my daughter kidnapped and nearly killed!”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen, that’s why I wrote those letters, to warn S-”

He slaps me again, backhanded this time, his knuckles connecting with my jawbone.

“Of course you didn’t! But it still happened, didn’t it?!”

He shoves his hand against my mouth, covering my nostrils, cutting off my air. I fight against his grip on my wrist and bite at his palm. Neither one budges.

He lets go of my wrist for a half second. Before I can move it, the cuff’s back on. Fuck.

Then he reaches down and unzips his pants. Soon I can feel his hot T-bone steak of a dick sliming its way up the inside of my thigh. I try to kick at him, but his hand’s clutching the base of my cock again, squeezing.

“Settle down.”

I growl, but stop fighting him when he squeezes harder. If I wasn’t doped up the pain would be unbearable. Right now I’m at the threshold of passing out from it-or is it the lack of oxygen? I can’t think anymore. My head’s caving in, blackness spreading out from the corners of my eyes.

Then his hand’s off my face and I gasp in great gulps of air that sear my throat. As my vision clears I see him jerking himself off.

“Fuck you, Adachi,” he spits, spurting onto my chest, hand twitching around the base of my erection.

He collapses on top of me, left shoulder wedged underneath my chin. I gaze at the TV screen above us. Murakami and Yusa are lying on their backs in the grass, breathing raggedly. Murakami, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the stomach, leans over and cuffs Yusa, who begins to sob.

-

“So you’re just going to leave me like this?”

He says nothing as he pulls the sheet back over me, not even bothering to wipe me clean. Asshole.

“Sleep tight,” he pats me on the head like a goddamn dog, “and I’ll see you later today.”

“Up yours.” I give him the finger with both hands.

Dojima laughs and walks over to the door. He glances up at the screen, where Yusa is clawing at his handcuffs and howling while Murakami stares at him, panting and clutching his gun.

He looks back at me and shakes his head. “You’re no Mifune, Adachi.”

Before I can tell him to go fuck himself with a broken beer bottle he’s gone, and the credits start rolling.

-

By the time the credits are over my hard-on’s melted away and I’m breathing regularly. I close my eyes and wait for sleep.

Let the dreams come, let the eyes come, I can take ‘em. Let prison come, let the rapes and beatings come, I can take anything.

I can take it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the Stray Dog scenes described can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMSoofvuB7I


End file.
